


Shot Glass Rides

by Delenn (goddessdel)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode: s6e05 Life Serial, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-06 04:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Delenn
Summary: Missing scenes during “Life Serial.” The motorcycle rides to and from the demon bar with Buffy and Spike (Quoteth Buffy: ‘Your motorcycle is loud’).





	Shot Glass Rides

**Author's Note:**

> Fills in the missing motorcycle scenes between Spike and Buffy in ‘Life Serial’.
> 
> Script transcribed courtesy of Joan the English Chick.
> 
> Date Started/Date Finished: July 27th 2004/August 23rd 2004

**Previously:**

###### Open on close shot of Spike looking to his left with a small smile. It's dark.  
  
BUFFY: (OS) This is gonna be great.  
  
We see Buffy holding up a shot-glass full of liquor. She pours the shot down her throat, swallows it and makes a horrible face.  
  
BUFFY: Blaaah! (shakes head)  
  
We see that Buffy and Spike are sitting on a coffin in Spike's crypt. Spike lifts his own shot-glass to his mouth and slams it down.  
  
BUFFY: Life is stupid.  
SPIKE: I have a dim memory of that, yeah. (puts glass down) And I didn't figure you were here cadging my whiskey 'cause life's all full of blood and peaches.  
BUFFY: No. There's this thing ... someone's doing stuff to me. Messing up my life. Except that it was kind of pre-messed already. You know, with school, and jobs ... pretty bad even without the evil.  
SPIKE: So you, uh, just what? Gonna let this whoever play you till it figures out what kills you?  
BUFFY: (shrugs, puts down her glass) Giles is working on it.  
SPIKE: (laughs) Oh, good, 'cause Giles wields the mighty force of library books.  
BUFFY: You'd do better?  
SPIKE: Damn right! I'd hit the demon world.  
  
Buffy has Spike's whiskey flask in her hand. She begins refilling the two glasses as Spike brings one leg over the coffin so he's straddling it.  
  
SPIKE: Ask questions, throw punches, find out what's in the air. Hmm? It's fun too.  
BUFFY: (slurred) It's not my kind of fun. (screwing cap back onto the flask)  
SPIKE: Yeah. It is.  
  
She looks at him.  
  
SPIKE: (quietly) And your life's gonna get a lot less confusing when you figure that out.  
BUFFY: (slurred) You have had *so* too much to drink at this point, I am cuttin' you off.  
  
They both empty their glasses again. Buffy again makes her alcohol face.  
  
BUFFY: Blaaah! (shakes head)  
  
Spike watches this with a smile.  
  
SPIKE: You're not a schoolgirl. You're not a shop girl.  
  
Buffy pours from the flask into her glass again, emptying the flask.  
  
SPIKE: You're a creature of the darkness. Like me. (Buffy looks at him) Try on my world. See how good it feels.  
  
BUFFY: Are there drinks in your world?  
  
Spike grins.

~~++~~

“Buffy, luv, you’re going to have to actually get on the motorbike if you want to go.”

“You’re kidding me, right? I am not getting on that… that… thing with you.”

Sighing heavily, Spike looked at the rather inebriated slayer standing outside of his crypt. Time to pull out the big bribes. “There’s alcohol at the other end of this ride.”

Still a little wary but rapidly losing her protests, Buffy asked, “And shot glasses? I liked your shot glasses.”

A chuckle. “Yeah, and shot glasses.”

She moved forward, towards the bike, still eying it and him warily. “All right, but no touchy feely, Mister, or I’m turning us around,” Buffy waved her arm at him for emphasis and nearly lost her balance and concentration doing so.

Gripping the handlebars of the motorbike tightly, Spike scoffed, “I’m driving,” seeing her skeptical, about-to-be-stubborn-and-protest look, he added matter-of-factly, “You’re drunk.”

“Uh!” Buffy scoffed, instantly on the defense, even as she recognized that the motorcycle was awfully big and that Buffy and vehicles didn’t usually end well, even when she hadn’t been doing shots of whiskey. “So am not!”

Raising his eyebrows, Spike waited, refraining from any comments.

Finally, Buffy gave in, marching forward and slipping on the back of the bike, “Fine, but I get to give directions.”

Nodding absently, Spike couldn’t help but grin slightly as Buffy climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, hands fisted in his leather duster. “If I can hear you, pet,” he gunned the engine to prove his point at the noise.

And they were off. The rock of the motorcycle was oddly exhilarating to Buffy, and she unconsciously pressed herself closer to Spike, tight against his back. The thought occurred to her that she wasn’t ready to go to the bar just yet. She waited for the urge to pass, and it didn’t. Next street she saw, she leaned forward and yelled, “Turn right!”

Irritated, Spike had a vague recollection of agreeing to let her give directions. “’S not the way, Slayer.” He was regretting that decision now.

She could hear him grumbling at her, but wasn’t about to drop the issue. Faced with limited options, Buffy moved so that her mouth was right next to his ear, having to shift up against him more to do so, and repeated, “Right.” As an afterthought, she bit down lightly on the lobe to illustrate her seriousness.

Unexpectedly, Spike groaned, the vehicle swerving violently to the right in order to make the turn without losing any more speed than was strictly necessary. “Whatever you say, luv.” Demon poker, information, and more alcohol could wait. “Do that again.”

Curious at his reaction and enjoying her power over both the vampire and the large vehicle beneath them, Buffy grinned and obeyed. Moving her hands to wrap more tightly around his waist, she hoisted herself up and bit down on his ear again, harder, wondering what would happen if she drew blood but not quite daring enough to try. “Right again.”

There was no groan this time, and instead of swerving to the right, the motorcycle came to an abrupt halt, throwing Buffy even more flush against Spike. Turning his head to the side so that he could look at her, Spike raised an eyebrow and intoned in a husky, ragged undertone, “Got better things for you to put in that pretty little mouth, Slayer.”

Traitorously, her body pressed tighter against Spike’s, and she was dismayed to find her less rational mind considering the situation with a bit of excitement. Reasoning with herself that this was _Spike_ didn’t work, as it invoked feelings decidedly other than disgust. Distracting herself with her actual curiosity, Buffy asked, “Why?”

Thrown for a loop and failing to hide it, Spike tilted his head at Buffy in a question. His mind had been running away with him when Buffy hadn’t immediately replied in the negative, and it was hard to get back on track, and what did she mean… “What?”

Seeing this conver-lation… conser-sation… convo-thingy rapidly going down a monosyllabic path, Buffy made a concerted effort to get herself under control enough to explain, because she didn’t see the one-word replies as working real well. She scrunched up her face a little bit as she focused, “What’s the what with the biting?”

Spike made a quick note-to-self that this was the second cutest look he’d seen her wear, following right behind her alcohol face. _Have to get her drunk more often,_ was the prevailing thought in his mind, now that his brain had found a track other than in-her-mouth. And… not helping… “Vampire, luv.”

“And you really want…” his once again raised eyebrow and firm smirk stopped that question more than anything. However, this whole half-viewing thing was really distracting her from the conversation with thoughts about his profile. Determined to at least have a solution to one problem today, Buffy let go of his waist and swung off of the bike. Before Spike could protest, she slid right back on the bike and his lap.

Suddenly faced with a lapful of playfully drunken slayer, Spike found all his coherent thoughts derailed. And it wasn’t from the small amounts – at least to vampire stamina – of alcohol he’d consumed. “Slay-- Buffy, luv, what’re you doing?”

“Shh,” and then her alcohol-tinged breath was brushing his lips and her hot little mouth was pressed up against his. Buffy loved how cool he felt against her extremely alcohol-heated body and it was only a second, and then she turned to the side and rested her heated cheek against his cool one.

Mind made up in entirely one direction. “Forget the bar, hit the demons another night, luv.”

“I wanna hit a demon,” stubbornly, Buffy sat up and guided his hands back to the handlebars of the motorcycle.

“That’s the plan, luv.”

And as quickly as it had happened, Buffy slid right underneath his arms, off of the bike and right onto her butt on the grass. Not daunted, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared defiantly up at Spike. “Nuhuh, Mister. I’m drunk, remember,” she gave it the snooty twinge to let him know exactly how much she bought that idea, and then grinned, “you can’t take advantage of me.”

Staring down at her incredulously, Spike got the distinct feeling that he never should have mentioned the bar. “Bloody bullocks, you’re… but…” He was tempted to remind her that as a vampire, taking advantage was not usually a deterrent, but another look at her twinkling eyes and Spike gave in. “Fine. Get back on the nice big motorbike, pet, and we’ll go find some lowlifes to beat up.”

Grinning happily, Buffy pulled herself up, ignoring Spike’s offered hand, and hopped on the bike behind him, having no qualms this time about being close against him. “And the alcohol, don’t forget the alcoholy goodness.”

Spike’s unhappy groan was drowned out by the roaring engine of the motorbike. 

~~++~~

###### Cut to outside. Buffy approaches the van, frowning. Spike stays where he is several yards back.  
  
Suddenly a large demon comes around the van and growls at Buffy. He has red skin, curved horns and wings, and wears only a loincloth.  
  
DEMON: Rrrah! You have discovered me! (puts hands on hips) But do not try to defeat me, for I have been testing you and I know your weaknesses. Ha ha ha!  
  
The demon suddenly looks over in dismay as the van starts up and begins to drive off.  
  
Buffy goes over to the demon, tries to punch it, but being drunk she misses the first time. She kicks out and gets the demon square in the groin.  
  
DEMON: Ooh! Oh!  
  
The demon doubles over in pain. Buffy falls backward onto her butt.  
  
Spike runs over and helps Buffy up.  
  
BUFFY: I'm okay! I'm fine! Get off me! (Spike makes a "okay, okay" gesture)  
  
DEMON: I am well struck! (voice breaking) I call on the misty portal to my demon dimension, where I will lay my head and gently die.  
  
The demon throws something on the ground, which causes a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke. Then he turns and runs away.  
  
Buffy and Spike cough and wave the smoke away.  
  
BUFFY: He blew up. Did you see that?  
  
SPIKE: (looks around in confusion) Yeah, I saw. He's gone.  
  
BUFFY: (shrugs) Gotta love it, you know. (Spike looks at her with a smile) It makes you feel all powerful. (uncertainly) Strong.  
  
Beat. She looks a little ill. Spike continues looking at her.  
  
BUFFY: Kinda sick.

~~++~~

“C’mon, pet, just get on the bike.”

Eyeing the bike from her position being held up by Spike’s arms, Buffy shook her head and tried to break free. “Nuhuh, we did this before. And get off of me!”

Rolling his eyes skyward and letting out a deep sigh, Spike lifted his hands out from under Buffy’s arms. He waited the necessary two seconds before she wobbled and started a descent towards the ground, before catching her again and hoisting her back up. “C’mon now, don’t wanna be all sick in this dirty ole’ alley. Just get on the nice motorcycle and we’ll get you home right and proper to toss your cookies.”

Frowning, Buffy nonetheless accepted his arms supporting her, recognizing that she really didn’t want to be sick here, outside a demon bar, with that strange van lurking nearby. And besides, Spike was getting irritated with her and she _really_ didn’t want to be sick here, outside a demon bar, with that strange van lurking nearby, by herself. “Fine, but no fast turns or I’m gonna be sick all over your coat.”

Properly disturbed at the notion that his duster, which had survived thirty years of battles, was to be done in by a drunken slayer, Spike agreed readily enough, especially if she meant to actually get on the bike. “Right then, up you go,” and lifted her on his motorcycle easily, before climbing on himself.

The motorcycle was just as loud as the first time but going considerably slower, as Spike really didn’t fancy holding the slayer’s hair while she puked in the middle of a street and then watching her push him off again as soon as she could stand. Maybe he didn’t like her drunk so much as he’d thought, or at least, not this drunk. _Had to go and play poker like a right bloody wanker, didn’t you, mate._

For her part, Buffy was silent, her hands pale and holding his coat in a death grip. It wasn’t until they turned, slowly, down her street, that she spoke, “We’re not going to your crypt?”

“No, we’re getting you home.”

Her hands tightened and her voice was louder, but not without strain, “But Giles will be there.”

Resisting the urge to shake the girl silly, as he was sure that would only make matters worse, Spike agreed. “Right, the Watcher’ll take care of you.”

Sounding slightly panic-stricken now, Buffy shook her head and then regretted it, both because Spike couldn’t see her head and because it made her all the more nauseous. “I don’t want Giles to take care of me.”

Resigning himself to the fact that the one time she wanted him around for her, it wouldn’t work, Spike kept the motorcycle steady in its course. _Doesn’t want you anyway, mate, just doesn’t want her watcher to see her drunk, is all._ “Vampire here, Buffy. Don’t really have any place for a sick slayer besides the cemetery.” He tried to be gentle about it and hoped she would both get it and not punch him in the morning.

Buffy quickly decided that she didn’t care; she didn’t want to face Dawn or Giles at the moment. At least Spike wouldn’t question her or lecture her. Unfortunately, they’d already pulled to a stop outside of her house before she could protest again and, because the motorcycle was so loud, Giles already had the door open and was peering out at them. “Hello?”

Face set like stone, Spike turned off the bike, removed Buffy’s arms from around his waist, and slid off, one steadying hand staying against Buffy incase she started to fall. He offered his arm and watched as Buffy took it, leaning on him as she got off the bike, one hand holding his arm and the other her stomach. From the doorway a confused Giles called, “Spike, is that-- Oh my, Buffy? What happened?”

But there wasn’t time for explanations, as soon as they reached the door, Buffy’s stomach gave a last strong lurch and she pushed forward, dragging Spike with her and up the stairs. He went willingly, offering a half shrug to Giles, who was left openmouthed to shut the door.

They made it upstairs and to Buffy’s room before Dawn intercepted them. The teenager took one look at her too pale sister being supported by Spike and shook her head. “What happened?”

Staring intently at Buffy, Spike admonished Dawn quickly, “Not now, Li’l’ Bit, Big Sis just isn’t feeling real well. Need to get her off to bed.”

The plan went a little awry though as Buffy’s stomach took objection. Finally letting go of Spike, she lurched towards the bathroom and made it to the toilet just in time. Spike, hot on her wobbly heels, grabbed her hair and held it back with a little sigh, as Dawn tried to peak around him, succeeded, wrinkled her nose in a good imitation of her sister and retreated to her room. “Whoa, way gross,” louder, she yelled, “Giles, Buffy’s throwing up!”

From his spot just at the top of the stairs, Giles winced at the loudness of her call and nodded, “Yes, Dawn, so it would seem,” he stepped in behind Spike and tapped the vampire pointedly on the shoulder.

Looking up, Spike nodded and got up off of his knees, where he’d been talking quietly to Buffy, and, careful to tuck her stray pieces of hair back, turned and followed Giles out of the room and down the hall. As soon as they were out of reasonable earshot, Giles demanded, “What happened, Spike?”

Ducking his head slightly, as he knew that most of this escapade was entirely his fault, Spike sighed, running a hand through his hair and answering. “Slayer just had a bit too much to drink, is all.” As an afterthought, “Oh, and there was this demon, big, red, horns and wings and such, pretty strange. It either blew up or ran off, I’m not rightly sure.”

“She was with you then?” Giles had his glasses off and was cleaning them, but he was waiting for an answer.

Spike nodded, his head cocked slightly to the side as he was still listening for Buffy, “Yeah…” he turned slightly, “I should just…” and motioned towards the half-open bathroom door, meaning to head back to Buffy’s side.

As Spike started to walk away, Giles almost let him go, and then he thought better of it. He needed to talk to Buffy and he didn’t think she’d be any happier later, whether it was Spike who had held her hair or Giles who’d gotten her water and aspirin. “I think you’ve done enough tonight,” at the sharp look he received, Giles amended, nonetheless firmly, “I’ll take care of her.”

“Right,” satisfied that Giles would do as he’d said and that this was what the original plan had been, Spike turned towards the stairs and was down them and out the door before anybody could change their mind.

With a deep sigh, Giles turned towards the stairs, intent on getting that glass of water before he went in to see Buffy, knowing that she’d appreciate it. Maybe there wouldn’t have to be lectures, by the sounds of it, Buffy was learning her lesson about drinking the quick and hard way.


End file.
